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The Very Bad Rats

Chapter 1: Breakout

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Author's Note: The Smurfs and related characters are © Studio Peyo. The author makes no profit from this story. The events of this story take place shortly after the 2017 animated film "The Lost Village." https://smurfs.fandom.com/ is my source for most information on Smurfs, including all the copyrighted characters in this story, and where I recommend you go if you want pictures to go with my descriptions. As for Smurfette not wearing panties, I had several Smurfs toys as a kid, most of them from Europe, and I can confirm this as fact, though more recent dolls seem to have changed matters, likely for tender American sensibilities.

All power has a price that must be paid, whether in life, limb, love, or loneliness. For the rats of Gargamel's tower, that price was staggeringly high.

Rip-Ear curled his lip in some mild disgust as he noticed the stunted old wizard sitting in the old chair he kept by the fire, curled up with some of his favorite reading material. Jacking off, of course, his robes bunched up around his waist, for the reading material was of "that" sort. Azrael the cat was out, having long ago learned to studiously avoid the tower during these periods, for the sight was not a pleasant one. Trapped in his cage as he was, Rip-Ear had no such luxury. But, ever the opportunistic sort, Rip-Ear did his best not to pay attention to Gargamel's activities, and instead focused on the words of the book, complete with illustrations. They were certainly food for thought...if he ever got out of his imprisonment, and had a chance to put them to use.

During his stay in Gargamel's tower, after being caught almost two years past, Rip-Ear had learned a great many things, reading just one of them. He was well aware that he was very old by the standards of rats, and should probably have died from the simple passing of time, for he'd been an experienced ratty brawler even before his capture. Gargamel, though, didn't like having to use his precious time hunting for new experimental subjects, and so one of the first treatments he'd inflicted upon Rip-Ear and his comrades, shortly after their being deposited in their present barred domiciles, was a potion of longevity. Just a few drops was all that was needed, of the very same stuff Gargamel himself used to retain his present state. Too late for the vile wizard, of course, for he hadn't stumbled upon the recipe until he'd been rather advanced in years, but not for Rip-Ear, nor for his friends.

Ah, his friends. In his own cage, there was Scrabble, the white parts of his piebald fur a stark contrast to Rip-Ear's coal black fur, though his beady black eyes showed only a little of the intelligence with which Gargamel's experiments had endowed the rats in his possession, as part of the wizard's many schemes for enhancing his personal power. Perhaps this was because Scrabble's body was more suited to development of muscle than mind, for he was easily the strongest as well as the largest of the rats who called Rip-Ear their leader.

Then there was Matches, as ruddy brown as the tips of the Lucifer matches Gargamel favored when he could get them, his expression wild-eyed, his giggle something that Rip-Ear had long ago accustomed himself to hearing as the ever-alert pyromaniacal ratling perused the scraps of chemical texts he'd concealed as part of his bedding. Sharing the cage with Matches was Cutter, probably the smartest of Rip-Ear's gang before they'd been captured, and definitely the smartest of the ones who'd ended up in rat jail as Gargamel's experimental subjects. In stark contrast to the mad-eyed Matches, the grey-furred Cutter was calm, cool, his eyes watching Rip-Ear, waiting for his leader's next command. Cutter was smart enough to know that he wasn't leader material, and also smart enough to know that Rip-Ear appreciated his abilities, and rewarded him appropriately for his contributions.

Finally, in the last cage, there was Whisper and Algernon. Whisper was the fastest of Rip-Ear's circle of friends, his posse, the core of the ratty hordes he'd used to command before their present ill circumstances. The silver-white rat was also, surprisingly, the most stealthy of the six rats in the three cages, for he'd learned to use natural dyes and mud to conceal his fur color even before the intelligence enhancements Gargamel had inflicted upon them, and being quiet before he'd figured out that little trick had been the only reason he hadn't been picked off sooner. That, of course, and his association with Rip-Ear, who recognized talent when he saw it.

While Whisper used the time he had to catch some sleep, Algernon gripped the bars like his best friend, Rip-Ear, sharing occasional glances with the muscular black rat. Like all of them, Algernon's form had become more humanoid under the treatments to which they'd all been subjected, to make them more closely match Gargamel's experimental needs, and the change made his chest and washboard belly stand out, along with the obvious scratches across the former and ugly-looking bite marks on one side of the latter. Rip-Ear had saved Algie from a cat when they were younger, and the muscular brown rat had been his partner in perfidy ever since...and sometimes his lover, when times were lean, or they'd both indulged in more than one of the fermented berries they sometimes found in the wild, or the thimblefuls of alcohol they occasionally pilfered from the humans of the town where they'd spent their winters.

Ah, good times, Rip-Ear recollected, feeling his shaft, as black as his fur, slide from its sheath as he pictured mice in the place of the humans writhing their way across the pages of Gargamel's smutty book, imported from points far to the east. Rip-Ear and his posse had favored mice as their victims of choice when they made their forays into the town abutting the forests where they lived most of the time. Not for killing, for though mice were considered good eating by many rats, Rip-Ear had always found them far more suitable for...other purposes. One of his favorite tactics was to invade a mousey nest, his greater understanding of tactics usually allowing his posse to trap most of the inhabitants of those holes in their main den. Then, while his posse and whatever other rats they'd recruited at that time kept the other mice under guard, forcing them to watch, Rip-Ear would select the sweetest and prettiest mousemaid from their number, and drag her out, tossing her to the floor of the den. With the eyes of her entire nest watching (and some of them growing aroused despite themselves), the poor little mousemaid would often beg for mercy for quite some time while Rip-Ear licked her snug pink parts, good and hard, until she finally squeaked. Once he'd gotten her wet enough, then, he'd pin her, mount her, and force his thick black erection into her delicate flower, humping her with abandon while she would squeal and squeak and even scream at having so much oversized ratmeat crammed into such a tiny space.

The poor little mousemaid's squirming were always exquisite.

When Rip-Ear finished, naturally, it was time to share his fun with his posse, while he took a turn keeping their prisoners contained. Most of the time, the mice got the hint, and didn't try to escape or even to resist, realizing that as long as they were good and submissive, they'd be left in peace...eventually. That "eventually" could take hours, though, for by the time the first mousemaid's cunny and tailhole were both equally gaped and sloppy, usually after the fourth rat in line had finished with her, the rest of them had recovered more than enough for a second mouse, and a third, and often right up to a sixth or even seventh, switching in a tight-bottomed mouseboy every so often for a little variety, or teaming up in twos or even threes when they got excited enough, and the watching mice too aroused to think of trying to resist.

It wasn't all mice, though, that ended up squeaking on Rip-Ear's prick. He'd had his fair share of ratgirls, naturally, but they were always willing, and not too hard to hunt down for fun, and Rip-Ear and his posse liked challenges. Molemaids were fun, for if you burrowed down behind them, and came up from the rear - and quite lovely rears they were, with firm haunches toned from clawing the dirt, and fur as soft and fine as velvet - then properly secured their hind legs to keep them from kicking (and Cutter had been gifted with knots even before the intelligence treatments), then all the poor, blind cuties could do was plead for mercy in their sweet, adorable voices as Rip-Ear prepared them, then squeezed his penis into whichever yielding hole he wanted first.

Chipmunks and squirrels were a rare and precious treat to Rip-Ear and his posse. The former were fast and canny, so it took both planning to ensure that you had enough time to reach the chipmunk's pink holes before she got to one of her dug-out ones, and sheer speed to beat the frantic scurry of a chipmunk lass trying to preserve her maidenhood from a big-dicked, horny ratling. The same tactics worked on both chipmunks and squirrels, though: in the end, teamwork always prevailed. If you found her closest bolt hole and had your friends set up an ambush there, Rip-Ear knew from many fond experiences that very soon the little cutie would be wriggling and squirming in the most delightful ways on your cock as you humped her silly. Squirrels, similarly, would leap onto a tree at the first opportunity, but instead of racing straight up, most of the time they would race around to the opposite side of the trunk, to get some distance between themselves and your nasty ratty cock. Position your posse on the other side of a tree while you approached in plain view, and two-thirds of the time, you'd have a bushy squirrel's tail tickling your balls in no time flat. And the best part, if you made sure the chipmunk or squirrel had some fun in the bargain, most of the time they'd eagerly join in the fun after the first couple orgasms, putting their little hands and sometimes even their talented little mouths into service for their former rapists.

Fine times, and fine memories indeed, Rip-Ear recollected, giving Gargamel a contemptuous smirk as the ugly old wizard gave his usual sharp cry presaging his orgasm, before he spurted his less-than-copious load straight into the fire, making it hiss for a moment, and promptly slumped back and dozed off, the book spread open on the table next to his chair. But now Rip-Ear felt he'd learned enough from his time as a wizard's prisoner, read all the books he needed, and knew enough to steal more later (most likely for Cutter, since the clever grey rat had read more than the rest of them, and comprehended it, too). Now it was time for him and his posse to escape. Now it was time for them to hunt a far more exotic sort of female.

Blue-skinned females.

A frequent subject of Gargamel's masturbatory sessions was his little blue creation, Smurfette. He'd made her to stir up trouble among his nemeses, the smurfs, and they'd initially fallen for the ruse completely. Later, though, she'd reformed, losing her originally black locks, and replacing them with golden ones instead. Still, she hadn't felt really at home among the ostensibly all-male village of the other smurfs, never really found her place. Not even when a second smurfgirl had been created, Sassette, did she feel truly at home. So she'd gone out in search of others like her, she-smurfs, the females to match the males of the species. And, to her delight, after a long and treacherous journey, she'd found them.

Of course, Gargamel had found this hidden valley only shortly after his little creation did. He'd been eventually repulsed, but he'd drawn a map that would lead him back to the hidden village, where he fully intended to return and lay claim to a ripe crop of she-smurfs, just as soon as they grew complacent.

At least that was what Gargamel cackled to himself, or to his cat, Azrael, while the cat would pretend to listen. While Azrael enjoyed the taste of fresh smurf as much as anyone, though, he knew that Gargamel was stalling, fearful of getting more of the same treatment he'd gotten the last time he'd tried to capture the female smurfs.

Rip-Ear intended to make sure Gargamel never got the chance. By the time he finally mustered up the courage to return to the hidden village, the cunning black rat intended to have cleaned out every last one of its blue-pussied inhabitants. Pussies that he intended to put to very good and thorough use. Use, he was almost absolutely certain, they'd never encountered before.

Riebald jokes about "one woman for an entire village" bandied about by certain of the less-politic woodlands creatures aside, Rip-Ear knew enough about smurf physiology to know that their sex lives weren't the same as those of other creatures; after all, the subject was Gargamel's obsession. They didn't reproduce sexually under normal conditions. Instead, just like the fairy stories parents of many species told their children when they were too young to "get" the big concept of sex, baby smurfs were brought by a stork once every blue moon. For real, based on the pictures and stuff Gargamel had lying around his tower's library.

So where did a village of she-smurfs come from anyway? There were theories about it, but not too many definite facts. One of those facts was that, while the "male" smurfs didn't have the goods "down there," instead having a smooth pubic region, and all excretion done via a single uroanal opening, they still had "urges." They didn't really understand the way being around a female smurf made them feel, but those feelings were powerful, powerful enough that their rivalries over Smurfette had nearly destroyed their village the first time, and they still kept trying to win her affections even after the initial tumult.

As for the she-smurfs, unlike the males of the species, nobody had done a proper check to see if they had all the goodies in place, at least not in the books Gargamel had (and, considering the extent of his obsession, and hence his collection on the subject, that made it pretty likely that the information just wasn't available at all). However, they had slight but noticeable secondary sexual characteristics, like feminine hips and the bumps, however, slight, beneath their clothes that indicated functional mammaries.

The conclusion Gargamel and Cutter had come to around the same time was a simple one: at some point in time, smurfs had been a properly sexual species. Then magic happened, something that tended to always make things get weird. After all the stuff Gargamel had done to him so far, Rip-Ear didn't really like to think about how lucky he'd been just to be made more humanoid, with more brain power, and a few other little boosts to his abilities; he might have ended up a sexless freak like those poor male smurfs! Sometime around that point, the much smaller numbers of female smurfs had gotten separated from the males, and the two groups just hadn't met up since, not too surprising considering how small they were, the males only about the height of three small apples stacked one on the other, not even tall enough to reach Rip-Ear's chin when he stood on his hind legs.

Papa Smurf, Rip-Ear figured, had probably realized that his species was finished unless he did something, so he made a deal with Mother Nature, considering how close he'd heard the two were from his sources around the forest. The deal let the smurfs reproduce without females, saving the species, but also continuing the trend of apparent physical asexuality among the males.

What about the females of the species, though? Had they similarly lost their capacity for sexual reproduction? Grinning to himself as he took one more glance at the erotic paintings in Gargamel's book, depicting tantric techniques Rip-Ear was just aching to try out, the big black rat decided he was going to find out!

"Ready, Scrabble?" he asked the burly piebald bruiser lying nearby. Scrabble hauled himself to his feet, lifting his hefty musclegut as though hitching up a pair of nonexistent pants.

"Sure am, boss," he declared, then walked over to the cage door, reached through the bars, and easily twisted the bit of wire that kept the door cinched shut.

""Matches, Cutter?" Rip-Ear asked, glancing over at his companions as Cutter worked on the lock - Matches had chewed through the wire shortly after he'd been put in the cage, and Gargamel had replaced it with a proper padlock, though even this soon clicked and fell to the countertop.

"Ready, sir," said the grey rat, climbing out behind the softly giggling red-furred lunatic with whom he'd been bunking for far too long.

"And now for our buddies," declared Scrabble, heading over to the cage with Whisper and Algernon, who watched eagerly as he twisted their wire free as well, before they joined the reunited posse, Algie giving Rip-Ear an impulsive hug.

"We're really doing this?" he asked, glancing down at the map Gargamel had left spread out on his reading lectern, held in place by a human skull that acted as a paperweight.

"Oh yeah," Rip-Ear answered with a confident grin. "Matches, go rig the window so that cat can't sneak up on us while we work. Unless I'm crazy wrong, I'm sure you know where Gargamel keeps all the ingredients that go boom. The rest of you, follow me."

He licked his lips in anticipation as Matches went to carry out his task, while the rest of them hurried toward the map, eager to be out of that hellish lab where they'd been changed so much...and yet where their desires had done nothing but grow to steadily more monumental proportions with every passing day without a female! Though Rip-Ear didn't fully understand it, Gargamel had also tried something new on the rats in his possession, something he hoped would enhance his potency, as well as his personal attractiveness to the opposite sex. Well, it hadn't worked so well on him, as a shriveled up old man who'd never had much in the way of charisma to start. But on his rats, already healthy, virile, energetic males of their species, with a tendency towards being oversexed and xenophilic to boot, it had probably worked far too well, in ways not even Cutter fully understood.

"Got the map," Rip-Ear snapped as he took hold of one end, his four companions doing the same, then swiftly rolling up the scroll, letting Algernon take charge of it, tying it to his back with a bit of string. "Matches, you good?"

"Azrael's right outside, bossman," giggled the madrat as he came scampering up. "He can smell the fur-burner I left for him, and he's suspicious. If I'd had more time, I could've hidden the scent..."

"Just means he's distracted, and we've got more time," stated Rip-Ear with a dismissive movement of his hand (and he did have more of a hand than a paw now). "C'mon, boys: freedom awaits."

"Freedom," agreed Algernon, taking up the rear guard. "And more pussy than even we can handle!"

*

Of _course_Smurfette had seen other smurfs naked. Back at her village, since the overwhelming male majority didn't really have anything to show off beneath their white wool pants, there was little reason for a nudity taboo, except for sake of the rules of civilization, which Papa Smurf more-or-less insisted upon...most of the time. Swimming and bathing in the stream near the Smurf Village was one of those exceptions. Smurfette had actually grown used to always having an audience around, even when she was taking a bath. The smurfs had been kind enough to modify a seashell for her, and when she didn't feel like going down to the nearby brook like everyone else did, Smurfette could always find a few of the boys around the village (Hefty being the best for that sort of work, of course) who'd be happy to haul water for her, heat it over a fire, and pour it into the tub. Once the tub was full, Smurfette would naturally shoo out any of the other smurfs who might be lingering around her house (mostly for sake of appearances) before closing her door and letting her flower petal dress slide off her smooth blue body.

What Smurfette never bothered doing, however, was pulling the curtains to her little mushroom house closed. Actually, she was pretty sure that the smurfs who'd put the bathtub into her house had deliberately placed it so that, every time she bent over to test the water or to pour in some of the foaming bath mixture Papa Smurf made especially for her, she would present her small-but-shapely blue bottom to the window on the far side of the room. Normally the smurfs outside managed to keep their noises to a minimum, not wanting to disturb her, but she knew perfectly well that they were there.

The knowledge that she was being watched, and the equally apparent knowledge that they liked what they saw...well, it made Smurfette feel things, sensations she didn't quite understand. She'd never bothered with any sort of undergarments, and quite regularly flashed her fellow smurfs around town any time she bent over from the waist, and while most of the time this was fairly innocent, there were times when Smurfette became aware of how she distracted the blue boys around her - sometimes even Papa Smurf!. Despite this knowledge, she didn't really feel terribly bad about doing a little deliberate distraction to add to the accidental sort that was perpetually incumbent with her stay in the hidden smurf village. After all, the boys seemed to appreciate the view, and they were certainly nicer to her afterward.

Now, though, clutching a soft white towel to her chest protectively, staring across the little clearing in the tall grass that surrounded Smurfy Grove's bathing pool, providing privacy to all the smurfettes who might make use of it, Smurfette was completely out of her element. Right before her in the makeshift changing area, so close she could reach out and touch them, Smurflilly, the second-in-command of the village, and Smurfblossom were stripping right down to their smooth blue skins without the least sign of concern, Smurfblossom actually still jabbering away as though nothing were amiss (though that was hardly unusual for the perpetually cheery she-smurf, even if there was something amiss). Smurfstorm, the village's premier archer and defender, did have the decency to hesitate a bit, and even blush, but she didn't resist when the other two finished undressing, and then went to help her do the same, lifting her simple yellow shift over her head, folding it neatly, and placing it with their clothes, right next to Smurfette's, on a nearby stone bench, apparently naturally shaped. Just another of the happy little accidents that always seemed to happen around smurfs, whatever their sex.

"I really don't see what you two are so shy about," laughed Smurfblossom, still talking a meter a minute, the same as always, while Smurflily, rolling her eyes, started toward the sound of gurgling water, both of the smurfgirls seemingly unashamed about how perked and erect their dark blue nipples were in the chill of being free of their clothes. "Honestly, Smurfette, we're all girls here anyway. This is just us being friendly, and showing you that we accept you as one of us, since you were nice enough to stick around while those boys went back to their village. And you were the one who wanted to see Smurfette naked in the first place, Smurfstorm. Why you're so shy and quiet all of a sudden, as soon as you got what you wanted, I really can't figure out...oh," she glanced at Smurfstorm's face, raising both her eyebrows at the way the normally fierce, confident archer she-smurf was gesturing frantically with her hands. "Oh, I guess that's a bit too much information, huh? Oh well," she turned to look at Smurfette, who was blinking in confusion...so much confusion, in fact, that she didn't resist in the slightest as Smurfblossom took her arm and led her along behind Smurflilly toward the steaming, naturally heated pool. "C'mon, Smurfstorm," she said, tossing Smurfette's towel over a nearby sturdy twig, set up to act as a towel rack, "the water's fine! Well, I'm sure it is, since it always was before. But Smurflily says that I shouldn't make assumptions like that, and Smurfwillow tells me that Smurflily's right on that one, so maybe I should...mmm," she smiled in satisfaction as she dipped a toe into the water, then slid in until the water was right above her blue breasts, which (Smurfette couldn't help but notice) were the largest of the four smurfettes there at the pool. "Never mind, it's fine."

"That chatterbox is always causing trouble," Smurfstorm grumbled, giving her long hair a slight toss, before she looked Smurfette over appraisingly with a sidelong glance, a look that Smurfette returned.

Smurfstorm was muscular, surprisingly so, since Smurfette had always noticed that smurfs seldom really showed a lot of physical differences, even ones like Hefty. Smurfstorm, though, had a visibly toned belly, and very small, almost nonexistent breasts, mostly just noticeable because of the dark blue dots of her nipples, thanks to having very little body fat on her tight, trim physique. Her legs were also visibly toned, sleek and firm, with solid buttocks that looked tight enough that you could bounce a smurfberry off of them. Standing in profile like she was, and Smurfette likewise, it was pretty easy for Smurfette to get a good look both fore and aft.

As for Smurfstorm, she once again noticed what she'd strongly suspected before from this magically-created she-smurf: Smurfette was drop-dead gorgeous! Her figure wasn't just slim, like that of most of the smurfettes in the village, with their modest cleavages and standard, functional physiques well-suited to the busy daily lives of their woodland existence. There wasn't anything wrong_with the way most she-smurfs looked, Smurfstorm admitted to herself, and they weren't unattractive by any stretch. It was just...well, they all looked so _alike. Male smurfs battled desperately to establish their identities with often extreme behavior patterns, so extreme that they used them as their standard for naming. Among the smurfettes of Smurfy Grove in the Forbidden Forest, though, they had actual names, but weren't necessarily required to develop truly unique traits. Smurfwillow, their leader, the oldest and wisest of them all, had always taught them that harmony and cooperation were far more important than individuality, and so it was a rare smurfette who stood out in any extreme fashion. Certainly it worked, for there was almost no contention in the village. But it did mean that social life could be desperately boring at times, especially for someone like Smurfstorm, who did like to stand out, to follow her own path.

Then here arrived Smurfette, her body sleek, willowy, her figure a classic hourglass with a pair of exquisite, teardrop-shaped breasts, and a perfect, heart-shaped bottom (only slightly marred by the little nub of her smurfy tail) that she showed off with a flash of light blue every time she bent over more than the least degree, for her white flower petal dress was only as long as her mid-thighs, while the sand-colored dresses of the she-smurfs were about knee length, give or take depending on the usual activity level of the smurfette in question (Smurfstorm's, for instance, was slightly above the knee; she wanted to split the sides of her dress to allow herself even more mobility, but Smurfwillow wouldn't allow such immodesty). What was most striking about her, though, was her hair: it was blonde! A bright buttercup yellow that looked as though it would glow in the dark! Unlike Smurfstorm's perpetually split ends from cutting her own hair with a small flint knife whenever it started to get in the way, Smurfette's hair was long and lustrous and looked so soft and fine that you could just sink your hands into it, and feel it bounce back from the touch...

"Um, Smurfstorm?" Smurfette suddenly piped up, and the lean, muscular she-smurf started guiltily, pulling her hands away from the other girl's yellow tresses (though not without noting that, yes, they did bounce, just like she was sure those perfect breasts must bounce now that they were free of the magical constraints of Smurfette's dress). "I don't want to interrupt you or anything, but Smurflily and Smurfblossom are staring. Maybe we should get in the pool with them?"

"Y-yeah," stammered Smurfstorm, clearing her throat as her cheeks turned a bright red through the blue, which made the edges of her cheeks look purple. "Sure," she added, regaining her warrior's poise almost immediately as she rested a hand on Smurfette's upper back. "C'mon, let's slide in. Then I'll help you wash your back."

"You'll want her to do that," Smurflily spoke up with a knowing smile as she leaned her folded arms on the rock-lined edge of the slightly steaming pool, her chin resting atop her forearms, her bottom sticking out of the water like twin blue bubbles as she gently kicked her legs to stay afloat. "Trust me, she's really good at giving backrubs."

"And footrubs!" chimed in Smurfblossom with a giggle, not seeming to care at all how much this made her sizable breasts jiggle. "And, well, rubbing pretty much anywhere else you can think of, actually. Everybody's really surprised when they find out that Smurfstorm has a talent for that kind of thing, but she says it's perfectly normal if you're trying to be a warrior-defender, because..."

"Because any good defender should have her body in top condition at all times," Smurfstorm broke in as she and Smurfette eased themselves into the water, careful not to splash any, the muscular she-smurf holding a carefully-folded piece of aloe vera leaf, stitched up on one side to make sure that only a little of the special herb-and-soap mixture inside would squirt out at a time when it was uncorked and gently squeezed. "Knowing how to give a good massage is a part of that self-maintenance process. It's just easier to do on somebody else than to yourself, is all." She turned to look directly at Smurfette, who fidgeted a little under that serious-eyed gaze, quite a contrast to the pleasantly amused eyes of Smurflily, and the open, cheerful ones of Smurfblossom. "There's a ledge over there," she indicated with a gesture of the hand holding the leaf-bottle of liquid soap. "Just kneel on it, and rest your upper body on the lip of the pool, and I'll be right over to show you what I can do."

Smurfette hesitated...but only for a moment. Then she nodded, smiling, feeling a sense of strange relief - and excitement! - when she made the decision to trust Smurfstorm completely. Her, and Smurflily and Smurfblossom as well, since they were in on this just as surely as Smurfstorm. Somehow, though, she knew that the three of them really weren't going to do anything to hurt her. Actually, this might end up being rather nice.

Paddling over to the indicated ledge, Smurfette couldn't help but blush a little when she climbed up onto it, only to discover that the ledge was only just barely underneath the waterline. That meant that, when she knelt on it, she was left almost entirely exposed, the water running off her smooth blue body in rivulets as she was displayed in profile. And when she actually turned to rest her upper body on the side of the pool, just like Smurfstorm had said, she felt even more exposed. Especially to Smurflily and Smurfblossom: low in the water like they were, they could stare right up into the snug little indentation that made her a smurfette rather than a smurf!

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Smurfblossom suddenly piped up, and before Smurfette realized what was happening, while Smurfstorm was squirting a generous dollop of the aloe vera soap-cream onto her hands, letting it warm up, Smurfblossom was climbing up next to Smurfette, positioning herself side-by-side with her fellow she-smurf. "See? I'll let Smurflily wash my back, just like Smurfstorm will wash yours, and you and I can wash each others' fronts!"

Glancing back at Smurflily, who rolled her eyes at the lunacy of the suggestion, Smurfette opened her mouth to say something, though what, she really couldn't say. Smurflily, though, did indeed take the bottle from Smurfstorm, and soon Smurfette saw both she-smurfs kneeling behind her and Smurfblossom on the ledge, just as exposed as they were. Despite herself, Smurfette took a look at Smurflily, blushing a little more deeply when her eyes fell on the other smurfgirl's handful-sized breasts, and then down, lower, to the quite prominent cleft of her girlbits, a definite contrast to the more modest indentations that Smurfette and Smurfstorm had (Smurfblossom's pubic indentation, incidentally, was a midway compromise). Torn between curiosity and trepidation, Smurfette stayed where she was, sneaking glances over her shoulder at Smurfstorm as she felt the other girl's body heat against her naked back and bottom, unable to keep from fidgeting a little as she felt a strange warmth starting to build between her legs, a slightly sticky feeling not much different from the one she got when she knew that smurfboys were watching her - watching, and liking what they saw.

"Just relax and let me do all the work," Smurfstorm murmured in her ear, and Smurfette let her eyes flutter shut as she felt a pair of surprisingly gentle, and even more surprisingly skilled hands settle onto her back.

*

For Sassette, the last two weeks had been extremely confusing. For Sassette, being confused was pretty normal, since up until just three weeks ago, she'd been only one of three female smurfs in the world, at least as far as she knew (though Nanny Smurf was way too old for her female status to matter much anymore). Being a tomboy helped the freckled redhead to compensate, since she could match or exceed any of the other smurflings in just about any contest of physical ability. All the same, she could never really get away from the hard realization that she was different, and nothing she did could change this fact. And when she'd hit puberty, she was only glad that at least smurfgirls apparently didn't expel blood from their girlyparts like a lot of forest animals (and humans too, if the rumors Sassette had heard while she'd been around the human village on exploration trips were true, though the girls who'd been discussing such "naughty talk" hadn't seemed to know that much more than she did). Having her overalls start to not fit her so well was bad enough! At this rate, if those annoying bumps on her chest got any bigger, she'd have to start wearing shirts, since there was no way the straps on her pink overalls would cover them for much longer.

With all the changes to her hips and boobies (she liked that word, "boobies;" she'd heard it in the same hushed girl-talk conversation between those human girls, and enjoyed the way it trivialized the things that were making her life an annoyance), Sassette had already had to relearn how to run and jump and climb and everything else she'd enjoyed so much. Thankfully the bit of magic Tailor Smurf worked into his threads, thanks in no small part to Papa Smurf's tutelage, was enough to provide her with all the support she needed, ensuring that her boobies didn't bounce uncomfortably, and hiding the worst of their growth, much like they did with Smurfette's more mature figure. And the feelings_she kept getting, these rushes of what Papa and Nanny called _hormones, well, those were for the birds! She kept getting weird gooshy thoughts and impressions at random moments, like that time she'd spied on the rabbit warren during their March mating, or those deer during the rut, or every so often when she saw boy smurfs naked while they were out swimming in the buff, like normal (though that last one was also mingled with a strange sense of deep disappointment at how little - how nothing, actually - the boys carried between their legs, in stark contrast to just about every other mammal in the forest). She'd seen all these things before, of course, and there wasn't anything really unusual in the activities themselves. What was different, she'd concluded, was her.

And right in the middle of this ridiculously confusing time, just as Sassette was finally starting to think she'd gotten some sort of handle on the whirligig of her changing feelings and body, Smurfette went and had a crisis of identity, and had to go running off into the woods in search of other smurfgirls. And what was worse, she'd found them! There'd been about a week of celebration and socializing after the smurfs together had driven off Gargamel in a way that was sure to make him think twice before trying anything like that again (and probably much more than twice, actually), and then the two sexes of smurfs had gradually drifted apart once again, settling back in their old, familiar, comfortable ways of life just like they had before meeting each other. For everyone now, life was pretty much like it had been before, except a little nicer, because both villages of smurfs knew that they were no longer alone in the world, and could take a deep sense of comfort from that knowledge.

Except for Smurfette and Sassette, that is: they'd stayed in Smurfy Grove, Smurfette because she wanted to see how other smurfgirls lived, and Sassette because both Papa Smurf and Smurfwillow had insisted. Not even Nanny would come to her defense! So now Sassette was left wandering around a village filled with girls who were all older than her, far away from her fellow smurflings and friends, trying to find a place when everybody around her seemed way too busy with business as usual to take time out to teach her...whatever it was that Papa and Smurfwillow were so convinced she was supposed to be learning in this place.

To be fair, though, Sassette thought to herself as she reached the edge of the village proper, where a lot of tall grass had been allowed to grow to over twice the height of a full grown smurf (which was rather strange, Sassette thought, since most of Smurfy Grove was very neatly kept), it wasn't as though she'd been completely_excluded from life in the village of smurfettes. Actually, she'd gotten to know some of the girls pretty well, and everybody was always friendly to her. They just seemed as though they didn't really know what to do with her, a feeling to which Sassette could relate, since _she didn't know what to do with herself! The white-haired Smurfwillow had been almost constantly accommodating, happy to show Sassette around, to show her everywhere she thought to ask about, and to introduce her to...goodness! Were there really one-hundred smurfettes in the village? Enough that Sassette was able to go where she wanted and talk to whoever she wanted, and not be chastised or told to go away or to mind her own business.

During her explorations, Sassette had even made two friends: Smurfjade, Smurfy Grove's best dancer, and Smurfmelody, their best singer. The two hung out together a lot, Sassette noticed right away, often practicing singing and dancing at the same time, and while each was obviously better in their specialty, neither were unskilled in the other's talent, either. Compared to them, Sassette had felt graceless and loud, but the pair had welcomed her in all the same. Short-haired Smurfjade was the friendly one of the pair, making Sassette feel at home, as though she wasn't a bother, while Smurfmelody, with hair that went down almost to her waist (though it was the same blue color as that of every she-smurf in the village, save for the very old Smurfwillow, of course) turned out to have a knack for teaching, and after a few short lessons, Sassette eventually stopped feeling _quite_so out of place around the two smurfettes.

When they let her hang around them, that is. There were pretty frequent times when the two would share a couple words said in _just_the right way, or touch each other in a way that seemed accidental, at least at first, or maybe just shared a particular glance which Sassette noticed, but just didn't understand. Then they'd start to gently disengage - they were _always_so nice about it - and get Sassette to go off and do something else, because they were "going to be busy."

Whatever that meant.

It seemed to involve a lot of soft moans and other strange noises from inside the mushroom house they shared, though. Noises that left Sassette feeling odd, and itchy in ways she didn't quite understand, and maybe a little bit gooshy as well.

So now Sassette was wandering alone again, a little sullen, and a lot confused. There was an_ache_ inside her, at least that was how she thought of it, something that was supposed to be happening...was it in the pit of her stomach? Somewhere around there, anyway. The feeling wasn't really unpleasant, but it was distracting, and it was almost constant now, where before she'd come to Smurfy Grove, it had only happened every so often, when she'd deliberately exposed herself to "gooshy" experiences.

There! She'd heard something! Just when she'd taken a few steps into the tall, concealing grass, imagining to herself what it must look like from above, rustling and parting like the fur of some mythical beast when she pushed the stalks apart, Sassette was sure that she'd heard a sound...a sound so very much like the ones she'd heard coming from Smurfjade's and Smurfmelody's house. Yes, that was definitely a moan!

Instinctively, Sassette knew that she needed to go quietly, and so she slowed down, forcing herself to take her time, to avoid disturbing the grass and soil any more than absolutely necessary. In minutes, not only did the sounds of girlish voices increase (and there were at least two girl smurfs, that was for sure, but maybe one or two more), so did the sounds and smells of fresh, gurgling water. There was a spring back here, probably a naturally heated one from some underground vent, though since it didn't smell bad, obviously the vent simply passed underneath without actually breaking the surface of the earth anywhere near. She thought she'd heard something about a bathing pool from Smurfwillow, and this must have been the place.

For a moment, Sassette hesitated. She was about to invade someone's privacy, after all. On the other hand, nobody seemed willing to address the questions she had, and with little other choice, if she was going to get answers to what all these strange feelings she had meant, when she didn't understand enough about them to even ask the right questions, well, she'd just have to find out for herself from the older smurfs, whether they agreed to teach her or not.

But then, Smurfwillow had said something about every smurfette in the village being her teacher, hadn't she? (Of course, Smurfwillow had said a lot of things, only a fraction of which Sassette could remember.)

Deciding that was enough permission for her, Sassette dropped to all-fours, all the better to creep up undetected, and crawled the last short distance. Reaching out, she caught the few blades of grass standing between her and knowledge, her palms open, and slowly slid them apart.

At the sight that awaited her, Sassette's jaw literally dropped. There was Smurfette, the one smurf in all the world she'd thought she could go to for talks about "girl things" until the discovery of Smurfy Grove, on the edge of the pool, naked. Without the charms of her dress in place, her body was a picture of loveliness, shapely and quintessentially female, without straying even a little beyond the Goldilocks zone of perfection - not too much, not too little, but "just right," just like in the story.

Smurfette was the one who was moaning, and it didn't take more than a glance to see the reason why, pressed as she was between the three smurfettes around her as she crouched on all-fours on a raised ledge near the edge of the pool, her hands and knees just barely submerged in the lightly-steaming water. Beneath her was the bubbly Smurfblossom, the most talkative and friendly smurf in the village. Sassette had a first-rate view right then, to the side and at an almost forty-five degree angle to the action, to see just how friendly, as Smurfblossom had her smooth blue thigh squeezed tightly against Smurfette's flawlessly smooth pubic mound, and the blonde she-smurf was rubbing herself eagerly against the other girl's flesh, while Smurfblossom was doing the same, her moans nowhere as loud as Smurfette's, though, because she had her mouth wrapped around one of Smurfette's teardrop-shaped breasts, and was obviously nursing on it greedily, like a newborn wolf cub!

Behind Smurfette, Sassette could see the other two important figures in the village (besides Smurfwillow, of course): Smurflily, the canny second-in-command, and Smurfstorm, the fierce and wild archer. In her mind's eye, Sassette could almost see how the situation had progressed, with Smurfblossom getting a backrub from Smurflily, while Smurfstorm did the same to Smurfette. Then Smurfstorm would move lower down, and Smurflily would do the same, the two smurfettes getting the attention growing steadily more antsy as those straying hands got ever nearer to their tails - and everyone knew that a smurf's tail was a sensitive spot! Considering how reactive Smurfblossom seemed, she'd probably been the one to take things a step further as soon as Smurflily started fondling her stubby tail, moving in on Smurfette, working beside her, against her...under her. And as she'd moved, so had Smurflily, starting low, which was where she was right then, her face pressed up tight against Smurfette's hidden bits, where Sassette couldn't see. She could see what Smurfstorm was doing, though, and the sight of the fierce warrior girl's cheeks hollowed out as she bobbed her head, nice and slow, up and down on Smurfette's tail, while her strong hands kneaded the blonde smurfgirl's smooth, supple, yielding flesh, making Smurfette's bottom bounce every so often with a light pat or a temporary release of her grip...the sight did things to Sassette that she'd never even considered possible before.

On all-fours in the grass, the groin of her overalls simply soaked, her nipples painfully erect beneath those annoying straps as they rasped against the course fabric with every little movement, Sassette wished that she dared to move. She also wished that she wasn't trembling all over with the strange, overpowering emotions that were overwhelming her body! If only she could reach those straps, at least, maybe make herself a little more comfortable...

Aah, that was sooo much better! Immediately the straps had come undone, almost as soon as Sassette had thought it! Her budding breasts swelled and bobbed as they came free of the confining magic that had held them in place, her achingly perked nipples actually taking up most of the surface area of those untried mammaries, and feeling so indescribably much better now that they were free of the scratchy confines of her clothes.

It wasn't until almost three seconds had passed before Sassette realized an important detail: she_hadn't been the one to unbuckle her overalls! By that time, though, a pair of large, calloused black hands engulfed her breasts, squeezing and tugging on her nipples in a way so skilled, so well-practiced, that Sassette grit her teeth, her eyes squeezing tightly shut from how _intense the feeling was as she sucked in a sharp breath. Of course, trembling all over with her first orgasm (albeit a fairly small one, as these things were measured), Sassette couldn't even begin to do anything about the other pair of hands that shucked her pink overalls over her pubescent blue booty, down to her knees, and then off and tossed casually somewhere behind her. Completely naked now save for her white smurfcap, Sassette was also completely unprepared to defend herself against the doom that now awaited her.

Barely able to open her eyes after a moment of rapidfire breathing, Sassette turned her head, looking up in flush-faced bewilderment at her assailants. There were two of them, big, muscular male rats, their bodies strangely humanoid. Little details like that were something that filtered in on the periphery of Sassette's thoughts, though, as she turned her head, her mouth slightly open as she tried desperately to catch her breath. The one leaning over her, his broad chest stroking her back with bristly black fur while he mauled her aching breasts, had a look of purest _evil_about him, but it was an attractive sort of evil, a wicked charisma that left her weak in the knees, with a strange flutter in the pit of her stomach. His eyes were a cruel red, and when he smiled down at her, showing his sharp ratty teeth, poor Sassette couldn't restrain a soft groan of despair: deep in her darkest heart of hearts, she knew that she wouldn't be able to do anything to resist this sexy beast, couldn't even muster up the strength needed to call for help from the other smurfgirls such a short distance away.

"Silence," he murmured in a low, erotic growl that made Sassette's inner thighs tremble, even as he made her gasp loudly as he seized both her orange pigtails in one strong hand. "Use that mouth of yours to get me ready to breed you, smurf-slave."

Use her mouth...? Ready to...to breed her? Slave!? In that instant, the spell was broken, and Sassette started to struggle, grunting cutely as she fought the pair of hands of the rat behind her, a broad-shouldered brown rat that was pretty cute, actually, if you discounted all the scars on his chest and belly, and his torn ear. But then the big black rat tugged on Sassette's hair, making her _gasp_again, before he reached his other hand down between his legs, forcing her face down to follow the course of his hand as he wrapped it around something long...and thick...and hard.

Black and glistening, the wicked rat's penis wasn't a pretty thing. Actually, it was ugly! Disgusting! Swollen and dangerous-looking, with a grotesque tracery of veins all along its length, and a swollen, mushroom-capped head, the black rat arched his hips, presenting it proudly, arrogantly, for Sassette's inspection. Ugh, and that smell...it was heavy with the musky smell of something dark and primal and fundamentally Male in ways Sassette had never even considered before, living her life around the visibly sexless smurfs. Not even the creatures of the forest that she'd seen in their acts of mating had such a palpable aura of raw power about them, not even in their most passionate acts. Those were swift and desperate acts of instinctual requirement, engaging in the business of making babies, and little else. This male beast, though, was as self-aware as any smurf or human, and knew exactly what he was doing. And what he was going to do.

Sassette hadn't even known that her mouth was open in awe, until the big black rat shoved his penis inside!

*

Rip-Ear grinned at the expression on the pubescent smurfling's face when he pushed his cock into her mouth. First there was the widening of her eyes as the realization of what he'd just done hit her hormone-addled brain. Then there was the adorable scrunching of her freckled nose as she processed what she was doing, her body tensing up as she tried to pull back, to make his shaft pop free. But he was a lot stronger than the weak little smurfling, and easily held her in place with a single hand, before moving his other hand to join it, holding each of her orange pigtails like handlebars.

Starting to move his hips, giving a low, cruel chuckle as the little smurfling tried to push against his washboard belly with her small hands, only for Algernon to grab her wrists, then cinch them behind her back with a length of twine they'd filched from Gargamel's tower on the way out, Rip-Ear loved the look of confusion and fear and quickly-rising arousal on his new blue-skinned slavegirl's face as she struggled, but feebly, her heart not really in it, making a host of adorable and highly arousing little noises around the bloated cock in her mouth. He'd known she wouldn't bite, one of those knacks he'd picked up from long experience as a ratty rapist, when he'd soon discovered that sometimes even the meekest of little mice would chomp down at inopportune times, while sometimes even the feistiest of chipmunks would become cum-hungry sperm sluts the moment they had something in their mouths. It was all just a matter of learning to read your victims before you pounced. Most rats didn't have the patience for that kind of wait-and-watch approach, but Rip-Ear knew the value of good intelligence, and had put it to the best sort of uses, even before his magically-enhanced brain boost.

Now the little smurfslave (Sassette, he recalled was her name, from their prior spying around the fringes of the smurfette village) was moaning, all attempts at words forgotten as Algernon squeezed and rolled her freckled blue booty in his strong hands, letting it bounce when he released the tight half-mounds. She was looking up at Rip-Ear with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging him at once to let her go...and also not to stop, her young mind confused with the input of too much sexual stimulus at a rate far too fast for a sweet little virgin to handle. Then, when Algie started to caress her snug folds with one hand, an act that immediately made Sassette's eyes widen, her whole body trembling, and then to wrap his other hand around her stubby smurftail, the orange-haired cutie's eyes rolled up into her head, and then closed, her whole body starting to shudder and convulse.

"Suck on it, Algie," Rip-Ear said softly to his brown-furred friend. "Just like we watched 'em doin' to that blonde slut, Smurfette."

Grinning, showing his sharp incisors for a flash, the scarred brown rat did just like his boss had told him, using the more agile lips Gargamel's experiments had given him to wrap around that little nub...and then start to suck.

While he'd never admit it out loud to anybody but Algie, Rip-Ear loved the way his friend could give head. They'd had each other before he'd found the rest of his posse, after all, and sex between the two had always seemed just...well, natural, really. A normal way for them to show their affection. Even before they'd had proper lips, able to form real words, Algie had been good at using his tongue, and at nibbling on Rip-Ear's cock without touching the other male with even a hint of teeth. Rip-Ear, not being utterly selfish, did try to return the favor, but ultimately he'd been forced to resort to providing handjobs: he simply didn't have his friend's talent for oral sex. With the new anatomy they'd been given, though, Rip-Ear had found (just for sake of experimentation, of course) that he actually could do for Algie what he'd tried before, and quite well, actually. And Algernon...oh wow...he'd gotten better. Much better! As Sassette now discovered, her whole body jerking and convulsing, brought to mind-blowing orgasm just from the double stimulation of clitty and cunny being rubbed while her tail was suckled the same way Algernon had learned to suck on his boss rat's cock. Both rats shared a look, eyebrows raised: well, wasn't that something! Then Rip-Ear grinned as Sassette's voice failed her, and yanked his cock out of her mouth with a soft slurping pop.

"Let's switch places, Algie," he growled softly, even while his brown-furred second-in-command followed his body language even before he'd fully understood the words that were said, moving to take his place squatting by Sassette's head, while Rip-Ear seized her perky blue tushie in both heavy hands, squeezing and mauling her sensitive buns roughly. "Plug that pretty mouth, like I know you love, and then I'm gonna get to work knocking up our first smurfslave." He grinned wickedly. "And then we'll spring our trap."

Evil mastermind and warlord he might be, but Rip-Ear did have a definite soft spot for Algie. For starters, he knew how much his friend loved oral sex - anal sex as well, the brown-furred freak! - but of course everybody knew that getting oral sex was dangerous. So Rip-Ear had taken to "testing the waters" with their fresh catches, and when he'd found them amenable to that sort of use on the end of his shiny black babymaker, wetting himself up for the rest of his fun, well, Algie was welcome to getting some head. As much as he liked! As for taking this smurfgirl under her tail...well, as much as Rip-Ear might tease his friend about it, he had to admit: anally banging a girl did have its merits.

He'd have to make up his mind on that one after he'd wrecked this smurfling's little blue pussy.

"No," whimpered poor little Sassette, her adorable freckled tushie wriggling in the grip of the big black rat behind her, her wrists working frantically against the twine holding them tied behind her. "Please, don't...mmmph!"

Waiting right until that perfect moment, just when Sassette's lips had formed the "o" part of "don't," Algernon thrust his rigid ratshaft right in, cutting off her words before they could get any louder, and perhaps draw the attention of the erotically entangled smurfgirls that were even then crying out loudly in their shared orgasms. Fat chance, but why take any when you could avoid it? Rip-Ear could just imagine the look on the poor, doomed little cutie's face when she realized that she couldn't even beg for mercy properly (though she did keep trying, the noises that resulted simply adorable, and more than enough to make Rip-Ear's erection throb). That look, of course, was what Algernon loved the most, seeing the expression on your victim's face as all hope finally started to depart, and they just accepted that they were completely at the mercy of wicked creatures who didn't _have_any mercy, and would do with the poor doomed dears as they pleased.

Moaning in despair, Sassette didn't resist as the brown-furred, scarred-up rat rested a single hand on the top of her head, fingers slipping beneath her smurfhat, and started working her head up and down, forcing her to fellate him. She'd had too many orgasms by that point to even think of any way to fight her captors effectively, her will utterly broken by the last straw of having her tail sucked by Algie's talented mouth.

That was right at the point when Rip-Ear slotted his heavy black cock into place against the swollen blue pussy lips of the young smurfling, rubbed the glistening head up and down several times to get it properly coated with her thick, sweet-smelling smurfjuices...and then thrust forward with a long, low growl, deep in his chest. Feeling Sassette start to squirm under him, her wails of violation only barely contained by the cock plugging her throat as Algie held her head tightly between his strong paws, Rip-Ear rose up on one foot, and drove his weight downward, plowing his immense shaft into the petite she-smurf's inner depths, stretching her right to the limits of what her body could endure. And, incredibly, even through all her muffled wails and desperate thrashing, Rip-Ear grinned like a maniac as he felt Sassette's inner walls quivering in uncontrolled orgasms, one right after the other, until they started to merge together into a single continuous state of convulsing pleasure.

Trading a look of wicked triumph, the two rats started to_thrust_ together, and when Rip-Ear's balls slapped her inner thighs, his big hands squeezing her perky freckled tushie tightly, while Algernon's balls slapped her chin, his hands holding tight to her red-haired pigtails, the force of their thrusts meeting right in her middle, poor little Sassette's whole body jerked and shuddered and spasmed in the throes of forces beyond her ability to control, let alone to stop, any more than she had a chance of controlling an earthquake, or a tidal wave. She was _theirs_now, and the rats opened up fully, heavy balls swinging, muscled rumps tense, tails held high, as they claimed their new-broken slavegirl vigorously.

Soon their shafts became a blur, and Sassette's muffled cries turned to helpless moans, her eyes rolling upward as her mind finally gave out under the assault of overwhelming sensation, pain and pleasure so mixed up right then, she'd started to lose the ability to tell the difference. Rip-Ear bared his sharp incisors as he saw Sassette's bottom turning a bright pink, which stood out in sharp contrast to her normal blue coloration, watched her anal rosebud tense and pulse...and then gave a short, sharp, barking exhalation as he fought to keep his own cry of orgasm quiet, his full sac tensing up, before his tail gave a short, sharp smack on the ground behind him, and he buried his cock to the hilt, already gushing cum almost straight into Sassette's defenseless womb.

Algernon saw the look on his boss' face, and picked up his own thrusts, caring little if he choked the helpless smurfslave he was spitroasting with his friend. Sassette's body was rigid, her throat tight, and as soon as he stopped fighting it off, his own tail giving a spiral gyration, the scarred brown rat also started to cum, flooding the smurfteen's tummy with thick, protein-rich ratcum.

Heaving a long, satisfied sigh, Rip-Ear pulled his cock free, letting Sassette sink limply to the ground, a sinking that was completed when Algernon also pulled free, sending a final spurt of semen right across the bridge of her nose, marking the well-used smurfling before she lay there, limp and leaking cum heavily from both ends.

Grinning, Rip-Ear reached down to give the immobile smurfgirl's bottom a contemplative squeeze, spreading her buns with one hand as he regarded her tense blue bud speculatively. He could certainly use a second orgasm after all that time stuck in Gargamel's cages; a third and a fourth would be pretty fine as well. But on the other hand...

"You all ready?" he asked, not bothering to glance back as his four partners in perfidy crept up through the tall grass all around.

"Yep," answered Scrabble, showing more talkativeness than he often did.

"Net's in place, and the timing is perfect," Cutter expostulated. "We're not going to get a better opportunity."

"Pop her tail cherry for me, Cutter," Rip-Ear finally said with a soft snort, releasing his grip on Sassette's tight buns and moving aside to let the slim, well-groomed grey rat step into his place. "Your reward for doing such a great job. Me'n the rest of the boys, we've got some blue smurfpussy to demolish."

Not like the noise would matter soon, Rip-Ear mused to himself as he heard Sassette give a soft, questioning moan, which soon turned to a high-pitched squeal as Cutter began tonguing her tailhole, slicking her up for his use. After all, if Cutter said everything was ready, it was ready, and if it was ready, that meant that it was all over for those smurfgirls in the pool.

Rip-Ear had developed the rare skill of patience even before he'd had his brain enhanced by those magical treatments. Patience, and observation. Most rats would simply rush into situations, not really thinking about what they'd do next, but just improvising on the run. That was all that could be expected, he supposed, when your lifespan didn't extend beyond more than two to three years in captivity, and a _lot_less in the wild. He'd been old by rat standards when Gargamel had gotten hold of him, but like most rats, he'd been ready to run and fight right up until his last breath, a perfect specimen for the evil wizard's purposes. From that age and experience, he'd learned the value of scouting, gathering intelligence, and knowing what you were up against before taking any actions. He'd done just that with the hidden village of the smurfettes, him and his posse, and had laid his plans very carefully indeed before striking.

After the trip down the river on their makeshift raft, which had shortened their journey to a matter of a day, rather than a week or two, Rip-Ear had set about gathering some of the local wood rats together, refugees from some of the human towns outside the bounds of the forest, mostly. Once he'd established a power base (a process that took all of two days in the fast-paced hardscrabble of ratty life), and taken over a nearby squirrel clan's hollowed-out tree to serve as a base of operations, he was ready for phase two: knowing his target.

Always making sure that either he or Algernon or Scrabble were back at the ratcamp, since they were the brawlers, and could keep order among a species that respected strength first and foremost in their leaders, Rip-Ear's posse had scouted out the inhabitants of the smurfette village. Naturally, the smurfettes considered everybody in their village of equal importance and value to their community, barring the exception of Smurfwillow, their leader. Rip-Ear and Cutter, though, as the smartest rats in the posse, knew differently. If they wanted to leave the smurfettes open to a raid, there were a few members of their community that would have to be subdued first.

For starters, everything revolved around Smurfwillow. Taking the hot silver-haired she-smurf prisoner would have been ideal, of course, but not very likely: she was smart as well as wise, and very experienced. Far better, then, to simply keep her from knowing they were there, and deal with her during the main raid, hard and fast, before she could have time to put some of her smurfy magic together. Once she was in their clutches, Rip-Ear had decided to present her to Matches: the ruddy-furred rat had a thing for experienced females, and Rip-Ear more than suspected that his freaky tendencies would be enough to overwhelm the will of even someone as seasoned as Smurfwillow.

Then there was Smurflily, the second-in-command. She wasn't officially in that capacity, not in the communal environment typical of smurfs (especially so among she-smurfs), but all the same, she was a major rally-point, and could prove to be a problem. The same could be said for Smurfstorm, the village's primary defender, except more: she'd almost caught the rats at their scouting on more than one occasion! Those two had to be subdued before any invasion could take place. As for Smurfblossom, well, she was a walking, talking (and oh how she kept talking!) morale boost, so while catching her wasn't essential, getting her here, away from the rest of the village, and with the others...well, that was just a sweet addition, one that Rip-Ear intended to enjoy to the fullest.

He strongly suspected that Smurfblossom was a screamer; he was looking forward to finding out.

That left the oddballs, Smurfette and Sassette. For one, their hair colors were different from those of the other smurfettes. For another, they dressed and acted differently. Smurfette, actually, seemed to be the embodiment of all things "girly," if that was even possible, while Sassette was a stereotypical tomboy, and had got along just fine with Smurfstorm, at least on the few occasions when they'd had time to interact. They'd have probably gotten along even better, actually, if Smurfstorm hadn't been so obsessed with seducing Smurfette, leading her to ignore Sassette (and, incidentally, the leads that might have caused her to discover the rats casing her village).

Eventually, Rip-Ear had decided that he'd have to take Smurfette prisoner as well as Smurflily and Smurfstorm, simply because he couldn't see any way to get her apart from those other two. Well, that and he had to admit: Smurfette was easily the most gorgeous female he'd ever seen, when she wasn't wearing those confining magic clothes of hers. As for Sassette, she was a tagalong, and since she was being ignored by everyone during the period of transition for her and Smurfette, he'd expected her to end up somewhere in the middle of whatever plans he might make. Pounding her into sexual submission was just the easiest way he saw to get her out of the big picture until he had time to begin training her properly.

Now here was his perfect chance, all three of his chosen targets all in one place, far from anyone who could hear them cry out for help, since the bathing pool had been designed with privacy in mind, and with bubbly Smurfblossom along as a special treat.

Trading looks with Matches, Algernon, Whisper, and Scrabble as they hurried to their positions, Whisper reaching the far side of the pool in moments with his singular, silent speed, Rip-Ear took up the long coil of twine that Cutter had been directing the other three to help him set up, along with that to which it was attached. Hearing Sassette's moans growing louder as she began regaining full consciousness at the new stimulation, and seeing the four naked smurfgirls on the edge of the bathing pool start to stir at the sounds they could now hear even through the muffling qualities of the tall grass, he made sure he had the attention of his posse (minus Cutter, of course), and then nodded, right before he gave the string in his paws a good, hard jerk.

Smurfstorm was the first to react, of course, even though she'd been the one who'd been the most vigorous in seeking pleasure. She was also the one who actually managed to get to her feet, sensing that something was wrong with those instincts that only a true warrior develops with much time and practice. Too late, though, even for her, as a bundle of carefully-treated spidersilk came tumbling down from above, opening up like a fisherman's net, ballooning wide over the four groggy she-smurfs. Rising to her feet first just meant that Smurfstorm was the first to be entangled, as the silk net, treated with one of Cutter's herbal concoctions to make it both waterproof and also quite tacky, so that it would cling without really sticking in an uncontrolled way, enveloped her, and then draped down onto the others just as they started to rise as well.

"What's going on?" cried Smurflily, caught on all-fours, smooth blue bottom thrusting against the confines of the net as she tried in vain to jerk backward and away from the entangling strands.

"It's all over me!" wailed Smurfblossom as she half-rose to her feet, and then tumbled over, too wrapped up to be able to keep her balance.

"Help us!" wailed Smurfette, on her knees, pushing up against the strands that clung all around her; she'd been hunted before, by Gargamel, and she knew a trap when she saw one, and could quickly figure out its full meaning even through the lingering haze following her afterglow. "Somebody! Anybody! We're being attacked! Help us!"

Smurfstorm, though, didn't say anything at all. She simply crouched low, and began feeling her way along, trying to find the edge of the net. Against a normal net, her strategy would probably have at least partially worked, depending on how fast the ones who'd thrown the net went to work in catching her properly. But with the gripping strands that Cutter had prepared catching against her limbs, her skin, her hair, slowing her, turning her efforts at escape into a steadily more tangled mess, she simply didn't have enough time to save herself, let alone her friends, before she rat posse came scrambling out of the tall grass, hot for fresh smurf pussy!

Rip-Ear grinned wickedly as he placed his hands firmly on the heads of both Smurfette and Smurflily, working them into a fist in the hair of the latter, making her cry out in shock, hands going to try to pull at his powerful fingers. Smurfette, however, only gave a frightened sob, looking up at the wicked black rat with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip, not even attempting to resist. Like Sassette, she could feel the raw, bestial charisma of this wicked conquering animal, his sheer, cruel masculinity making her dark blue nipples stiffen, her inner thighs trembling, her body instantly sapped of its strength.

Since she'd been the focus of the other three smurfettes, Smurfette had reached that state of slow, calm awareness that follows a truly powerful series of orgasms, and in that state, she let her eyes play down the brutal male's strangely humanoid body, to the obscene scepter of his penis. That was an instrument of domination, just as his heavy, egg-shaped balls were a clear sign of overwhelming potency, and Smurfette knew this instinctively, not seeing any point in even trying to resist.

Not so Smurfstorm! With a desperate scream, the lean-muscled warrior she-smurf leapt for the shore, straining the edge of the net that entangled her, and snatched up one of the little stones by the side of the pool. It wasn't a very sharp stone, but it was sharp enough as Smurfstorm used it to gash the net's strands between the wide, flat table rocks at the edge of the pool. In two heartbeats, the strands gave way, and she forced herself forward with all the strength of her smooth, supple body, tearing out of the net with a loud grunt of exertion.

Whisper, of course, had been waiting for this moment. Fast as greased lightning, the silver-white rat slammed into Smurfstorm, knocking her sprawling onto her stomach on the very table rock she'd been using to wear through the net. As she turned her head, she saw Smurfblossom gripped between the ruddy-furred, wild-eyed rat with the singed fur, and the handsome, scarred brown rat with the torn ear, the two forcing her to her feet as they worked her free of the net, and into their clutches. Then she was rolling onto her back, gritting her teeth as she tried to swing at the wiry-muscled sprinter on top of her, grunting with the effort, and hearing him grunt as well as he raised his hands, blocking most of the force of her strikes with his forearms, keeping her from hitting his head.

Then Smurfstorm could feel a presence behind her, but couldn't react fast enough with the snap-fast little jabs the silver rat on top of her threw every time her attention wavered from him. The nasty beast was at least as good a fighter as she was, but maybe she'd have had a chance in a fair fight. This, however, was anything but a fair fight; it was an overwhelming surprise assault! A great pair of huge ratty hands came down on her wrists, jerking them roughly upward, pinning her to the smooth stone as she thrashed and bucked, her smooth body arching in a way that was as arousing for anyone watching as it was desperate for her.

"That's enough," said the dark-fast silver rat, looping a twist of sturdy twine around Smurfstorm's wrists, the burly rat gripping them shifting his hold just enough to allow this, before the silver rat slid his hands down the smurfette warrior's lean body, teasing her skin with his fingertips, making her shiver despite herself with the obvious skill that those hands promised. "There's no point in fighting us anymore," he finished, slipping another loop of twine around her ankles, cinching them together before she'd even fully realized what he was doing. "You're ours now. It's all over."

Hearing a girlish cry from not far off, Smurfstorm turned her head, as did all her friends, including Smurfette, all of them gasping in shock, their eyes wide at the sight that greeted them. There, just within their line of sight, they could see little Sassette, stripped as naked as they all were, her cheek squeezed against the turf, her perky blue bottom thrust into the air. Behind her, a neatly-groomed grey rat was gripping his lean, smooth cock in one hand, its humanlike mushroom-head wrinkling, long shaft bending slightly with tension as he pressed it against Sassette's tiny tailhole. They could all see exactly what he was doing at that angle, and the thought of it, so obscene, so dirty, filled each of the four smurfettes with a strange mix of emotions that they couldn't quite categorize.

Then the grey rat's cock suddenly straightened out, popping past the tense ring of Sassette's tailhole. She gave a loud wail of violation, her head lifting, her back arching, while the grey rat grunted, his lips forming a tight "o" of pleasure as his eyes narrowed to slits, focused on the point where his cock was penetrating tight teen smurftail. Even at that distance, all the smurfettes could see Sassette's cunny squirt a short jet of girl-cum, wetting the heavy sac that swung forward as the grey rat thrust his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt in poor Sassette's bottom. When that sac slapped against Sassette's cunny, she squealed, her whole body jerking and spasming in obvious orgasm, her face a picture of ultimate despair: pleasure was a far greater source of domination than pain ever was, and all the smurfettes trembled in sympathy, realizing with horror that, unless they could somehow escape, or some miracle intervened, they would all be suffering a similar fate in the all-too-near future.

Squirming before the lean grey rat that was now plowing her tight buns, an expression of wicked-yet-calculated enjoyment on his intelligent face as he made sure to pace himself, Sassette babbled incoherently as her hands twisted behind her where they'd been bound, her toes curling upward in the throes of her orgasmic distress. But the rat raping her bottom didn't simply ream her out; he took his time, using only just enough force to make her blue bottom bounce, her cute little breasts jiggle. In short, just enough to make sure she felt every stroke, so there would be no escape from the pleasure, no relief, and no hope of mercy. When this rapacious beast finished with her, her will would be broken forever, and she would be nothing but a slave in mind and spirit as well as body.

As they finished their business of tying up their prisoners, the other bad rats just watched, all of them sporting the same heavy, humanlike erections of their comrade. In fact, now that Smurfette was really paying attention (and blushing heavily about it in the process), she could see a lot of humanlike features about these rats. Obviously they weren't just some common city scum that had found their way into the forest. No, these brutes had purpose in their eyes, and a burning intelligence that belied ambitions only expected of humans. Their leader, the big black rat with the big black prick who was gripping a loop of Smurfette's blonde tresses as she knelt at his knees opposite Smurflily, both of them bound with their hands behind their backs, more loops of twine wrapped both above and below their breasts, while others cinched their knees and ankles together, had an expression of cruel amusement on his brutal face. The scarred-up brown rat next to him, meanwhile, had an expression of smug amusement, his erection dripping precum unashamedly onto Smurfblossom's shoulder, while she was forced to kneel next to him, her wrists tied in front of her, a look of adorably pitiful despair on her cute face. This same look of smug excitement was mirrored on the faces of the wiry silver rat, and the hefty piebald brute, and Smurfette felt a flutter deep in her belly at the sure knowledge that came to her in a flash that before long, she'd feel each and every one of those mighty male shafts deep inside her body, until her poor little pussy was stretched and flushed and leaking as badly as poor Sassette's was. Even the cock of the disheveled rat with the ruddy fur and the intense, wild eyes, who was licking his lips, casually working a finger between poor Smurfblossom's legs, while he kept his gaze fixed on Sassette's defilement.

At that moment, Sassette gave a high-pitched scream, a sound straight from the depths of her soul, her back arching, her mouth and eyes wide as the motion thrust out her sleek young breasts. The rats began to laugh, the sound dark and cruel, while the well-groomed grey rat picked up his pace, a malicious, toothy grin on his face as he shifted one of his long-fingered paws from mauling the little smurfteen's bottom to squeezing and then stroking her tail. This was the last straw, as Sassette's scream reached a crescendo, her whole body shuddering and jerking, her rump and belly visibly rippling with the force of the orgasms tearing through her inexperienced body and mind and deep into her soul. The grey rat, overcome by the sheer tightness of the little smurfling, gave a short, sharp gasp, his balls tightening as he hunched over Sassette, cum starting to squirt out around where his cruel cock was spreading the dark blue rosette of her tailhole wide, nibbling his way along her spine.

Pulling out, the grey rat heaved a deeply satisfied sigh of contentment, his pink penis glistening as it bobbed in the air, still erect. Sassette, meanwhile, slumped forward, her eyes gone blank, her mouth open slightly, her expression empty. She'd been literally screwed senseless, her mind forced to shut down just to cope with the overwhelming blast of sensation she'd been forced to endure.

"She'll recover," said the black rat with the torn ear, curling his lip as he looked down at Smurfette, deliberately smacking her cheek with his disgusting-looking, ropey-veined prick. "Eventually. But not until after we've all taken a turn wrecking her good. As for you," he reached down, and easily slung Smurfette over one shoulder, as though she weighed no more than the dress she'd doffed to enter the bathing pool, "you're all coming with us back to our base. I wanna sink my shaft into you where I can take my time about it, savor the experience fully. Here, we'd have to go quick and brutal, like with our new broken toy." He motioned with his snout to his companions. "Round 'em up! Poles and nets! We're gonna have plenty of fresh blue booty tonight! And first thing tomorrow, we'll have them all! A hundred pussies, tight as you could want, and all of them just aching_for a _real male's cock!"

Whining as she felt her poor little cunny already starting to flush and moisten as the ratty leader caressed her tender blue lips with his big, rough hand, Smurfette watched as Sassette was tossed into another of the spidersilk nets, as was Smurflily, both stuffed head first, bottoms up, their smooth bodies squeezing tightly together in the most embarrassingly intimate ways, before the piebald bruiser slung the net sack over one shoulder, easily carrying both the smurfettes without any visible signs of fatigue. The other four rats, meanwhile, slid poles between the ropes holding the wrists and ankles of Smurfstorm and Smurfblossom, and lifted them up onto their shoulders, in a way Smurfette had occasionally seen used by human hunters when they'd bagged a deer.

"You-you'll never get away with this!" Smurfette declared, wriggling in a way that she only wished didn't make it so obvious how wet she was already getting, gritting her teeth against the skilled touch of that very bad rat as he began to _grind_the heel of his palm right into the cleft of her cunny as the flawless heart-shape of her bum was forced up by the curve of his broad shoulder.

"We already have, smurfslave," chuckled the cruel beast as Smurfette's voice rose in a sudden, sharp "Oh!" as her head shot up, her toes curling in the instant a sharp orgasm hit her brain with the force of a club. "Maybe if you really wanted to beat us off, you could do it. But you don't. Whatever else you might tell yourself, you want what we're gonna give you. And because you want it, you and every smurfette in this valley is gonna spend the rest of your lives popping out ratbabies. When you're not cumming your brains out on our nasty, smelly ratcocks, that is."

Smurfette's head sank in despair, even as she whimpered as he began fingering her tailhole with his thumb, his other fingers still hard at work on her gushing cunny. Try as she might to muster up some sort of defiance, his words stung her deeply. They stung because they were the truth.